


holidays with dimya - 2021

by msaudreyanne



Series: holidays with dimya [2]
Category: Anastasia (1997), Anastasia - Flaherty/Ahrens/McNally
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Fluff, Humor, Not me., One-Shots, Who Knows?, maybe angst?, minor smutt references
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-03
Updated: 2021-02-23
Packaged: 2021-03-13 02:13:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28520694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/msaudreyanne/pseuds/msaudreyanne
Summary: new year, new work!figured it would be good to break up the years, otherwise who knows how many chapters it would've been???same ol', same ol'. my favorite idiots in various situations and universes, inspired by whatever random holiday i like at the time.
Relationships: Dimitri | Dmitry/Anya | Anastasia Romanov (Anastasia 1997 & Broadway)
Series: holidays with dimya [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2089176
Comments: 50
Kudos: 40





	1. National Personal Trainer Awareness Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Go read ‘some give up. some give in. me, i won’t.” before you read this chapter 💛

Dmitry was in a mood. The gym is insanely busy with the New Year’s Resolution brigade and he hadn’t seen Anya once since they arrived at work at 5 am this morning. To try and boost morale, Lily had brought in food for the staff. As he’s combing through the basket of Clif bars, desperately looking for the Chocolate Brownie flavor, dainty hands encircled his waist and slid under his gym t-shirt.

“Please be Anastasia Romanov feeling me up and not some other desperate housewife trying to ditch the wine weight before Cabo.”

Anya’s laughter reached his ears and he visibly relaxed. It should’ve been sad, really, how much he relied on her to get him through the work day.

He made a mental note to remind Lily that Anya could never, ever leave for another gym. Not unless she took him with her.

“I take it you’ve had a rough morning so far, Dima?” He turned around and let her gently pin him against the table.

“Like you wouldn’t believe. I’ve had six private sessions so far and there’s another eight this afternoon. And there aren’t any Chocolate Brownie Clif bars left!” Others might’ve made fun of him for being dramatic, but Anya understood his need for a chocolate fix mid-morning.

Those Snickers commercials were on to something…

“You know you love what you do, though. You’re helping these people take control of their lives!” At his scoff and eye-roll – he knew she was right, there was no use in disputing it – Anya flicked his nose.

“And it’s a good thing I helped Lily set up the food in between classes…” She reached under the strap of her sports bra and pulled out the exact snack he had been looking for.

But now his attention was torn between the glorious chocolate protein and his girlfriend’s bra.

“Did you really have that in your bra? Got anything else in there I might like?” He made a point to leer exaggeratedly down the front of her shirt before she smacked him upside the head.

“Of course there is, you idiot. And I put it there to hide it from you. Regular women’s clothing doesn’t come with pockets, so where exactly do you think they’d put it on yoga clothes?”

“Wait. Does this mean you’re up for a tandem shower over the post-lunch hour?”

“Play your cards right, and that might just happen, Mr. Sudayev.” She shot him a cheeky wink and just as his mind melted with visuals of the two of them together, Lily interrupted and brought him back to the miserable reality of their work.

“Dmitry! Quit propositioning my yoga instructor! I _will_ make you go through Sexual Harassment Training again and won’t lose a bit of sleep over it.”

“Oh Lily, we both know he’s not eloquent enough to proposition me, especially when he hasn’t had breakfast yet.” Dmitry wondered how he’d manage to suddenly become a spectator in a conversation about himself. “And don’t worry, we learned our lesson and promised we would keep it strictly professional while at work.”

Dmitry had made no such promise – something he would remind Anya of once Lily wasn’t within earshot – but he kept his mouth shut in order to keep himself out of trouble.

“Good. You know I love you both as if you were my own children, but we _do_ have rules.” Lily shot them one last warning look and then snatched an apple from the table and went back to her office.

“So…shower at 2?” His hand rested against Anya’s hip and he tried giving her his most charming smile.

“Dmitry…we can’t get caught…” He could tell her resolve wasn’t iron-clad, but he didn’t want to get the pair in trouble – not that Lily would ever fire her two star employees.

“Might I make a counter-offer to the shower?” His hand trailed up her side and rested dangerously high on her ribs. Anya shivered and fought the arch into him and Dmitry took great pride in producing such a reaction from her.

Unfortunately, Anya was on to his tricks. She removed his hand from her, a pointed glare directed at him, before gritting out her response.

“Make it quick, Dmitry Sudayev.”

“Oh we both know I do some of my best work under pressure…” He brought their joined hands up to his lips and placed light kisses along Anya’s pulse. “Lily said we need to remain professional _here_ , but she never said we can’t leave for our OSHA-mandated lunch breaks.”

Anya snickered at his suggestion. “Dmitry, you know very well that people in our field don’t really get traditional lunch breaks. We’re not 8-5ers.”

“If Lily wants to throw the rule book at me, I’m gonna lob it right back. It takes us 10 minutes to walk to your apartment. That gives us 40 minutes to do whatever we’d like within the confines of our home.”

“You’re quite the con-man, Dima.” She finally left his bubble and while that should’ve helped clear his lust-fueled brain, he only felt confusion. Here he’d thought he’d come up with the perfect plan.

“Is that a no, Miss Anastasia?” He was challenging her now, hoping that it would light that fire within her that just couldn’t back down, no matter the risk.

She sized him up, lingering especially on his lips, and then walked towards the door. Just as she was about to leave, she turned back to him.

“I’ll meet you at the front desk at 1:59. Don’t be late, Sudayev.”

He wasn’t.

 _They_ were, however, very late for the second half of their day. If anyone noticed that Anya wobbled with some of her poses during her Restorative Yoga class, or that Dmitry had changed into a long-sleeve shirt, no one said anything.

Lily did make sure to point out that Dmitry had scratch marks at the back of his neck, peeking out from the collar of his shirt at the end of the night.

Actually, when she’d seen him as they were all packing up to leave for the night, she’d cackled and claimed Anya used him as a scratching post, like a cat in heat.

So much for professionalism in the workplace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 💛💛💛


	2. Get to Know Your Customers Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> coffee shop au inspired by the recent revelations of EVERYONE imagining violence towards gleb. 
> 
> gleb is a karen. dmitry and anya are horny idiots. the usual.

Dmitry’s morning was absolute shit.

He’d only agreed to cover the early shift as a favor to Vlad and Lily. He despised the cruelness of the AM crowd. They never seemed to remember that the individuals making their drinks behind the counter were actual human beings.

He missed his night owl customers. College students studying, first daters, and several aspiring authors usually kept him company while he cleaned up the chaos left over from the morning rush. He didn’t mind it, though. It was a fun shift with relatively low stress and it allowed him to sleep in each morning.

Dmitry had to set roughly ten alarms to ensure he’d wake up in time to make it to the coffee shop to open. As each alarm went off, he added to the resolve to tell Vlad that the next time he needed coverage in the morning, he needed to forget that Dmitry existed.

He’d already been yelled at four times for the stupidest shit. If he didn’t need this job, he’d have walked out already.

Well…that wasn’t entirely true. He couldn’t leave Polly alone with those vipers.

She’d started at the register, but quickly asked him to switch with her. He took in her red cheeks and barely concealed rage in her eyes and thought it probably for the best. Besides, he’d seen enough shit in his life. What could temperamental coffee addicts really do to break him?

Apparently, not much.

The stout man across from him was looking for a fight and Dmitry knew it. The thing was, though, Dmitry was at the point where a fight might do him some good. He definitely had enough tension built up and oh, how he’d love to just fucking deck this clown who refused to give his name for his order.

“Sir, please, you do not even have to give me _your_ name. I just need to add a name to the ticket.”

He wondered momentarily if it’d be offensive if he rubbed his hands over his face in exasperation.

“And I told _you_ , this is just another attempt to steal my identity and I won’t have it. I have rights!”

If this guy pointed his finger and Dmitry one more time, he was going to break it.

“Sir, you gave me a debit card to pay for your coffee. If I really wanted your identity, I’d just get it through that.”

“Aha! I knew it! I knew that’s what those chips were for!”

A line had formed and they were getting antsy. He’d likely hear about this from Vlad and Lily, but honestly he kind of hoped they’d fire him at this point.

Could he still file for unemployment if he was fired for assaulting a customer?

“You know what, I’m just going to put Bob on here and that’ll solve everything, ok? I’m sorry for the trouble, sir.” This was the last attempt Dmitry was going to make to remain civil. The very last.

“Absolutely not! For all I know, Bob is some kind of code and you’ll have them start tracking me!”

“Oh for fucks’ sake! Just write ‘Small Penis’ on it! Gleb get the fuck out of line and quit harassing him!”

Dmitry peaked around ‘Gleb’ to see a pretty, petite young woman at the back of the line looking just about as angry as he felt. She was dressed casually with a book bag slung over her shoulder and the thought crossed his mind that he would very much like to see her swing that bag at the man standing in front of him.

This morning shift business was too much excitement for him. An embolism was in his future if this kept up.

“Excuse me! I am a paying customer! I have just as much right to be here as anyone else!” Gleb sure enjoyed talking about rights. Funny how he seemed to forget the rights of literally everyone else around him…

“You come in here every morning and get a small black coffee that I’m sure you could make at home for less money and less hassle. You do this just so you can yell at the employees and frankly if I didn’t have an exam later today I’d kick your ass myself.”

Dmitry had no doubt about this woman or her words. She was small, sure, but she looked like someone he’d not want to cross. He had to admit, though, she was insanely attractive all riled up like this. But would it ruin the mood if he asked for her number right then and there?

Gleb must’ve realized he wasn’t going to come out of this one, because he muttered a quick “Forget it” and marched out the door, looking every bit like his ego was mortally wounded.

As the door slammed behind him, applause erupted throughout the café. Dmitry took the orders of the next several people in line stuck in a daze and he was thankful Polly understood his mumbling, until finally the hero of the hour approached the counter.

“Hey Anya! You are an angel! Hot cocoa is on me today!” Polly called from behind the espresso machine and Dmitry’s head flipped back and forth between the two, desperately wanting to be a part of the conversation.

Then something clicked in his mind.

“You’re the hot chocolate lady they all talk about?!”

For the first time, she looked sheepish. A healthy blush colored her cheeks and Dmitry was so intrigued by this woman.

“I suppose I am. Do you talk about all of your customers when they’re not around?” She teased as she waited for Polly to finish making her drink. The line was gone now and most of the seated customers were once again absorbed in their own lives.

Which freed up Dmitry to find out more about this Anya…

“The owners are on this kick about ‘getting to know our customers’ and the easiest way to do that is by drink.” He tried to explain it in a way that wouldn’t be creepy, really. “And the customer that orders a large hot chocolate with extra whipped cream, chocolate drizzle and marshmallows for days is pretty memorable.”

He flashed her what he hoped was a flirty smirk which dropped from his face immediately when he heard Polly snort behind him.

“Thank you, Polly! I haven’t seen this one around before.” She pointed at Dmitry and he felt his palms get clammy. “Is he new?”

“No, he’s our night gremlin. Just covering for Marfa today.” Polly shot a knowing look back at Dmitry. “He’s also single as fuck.”

“Thank you, Polly. That’s great, thanks.” Dmitry was definitely going to need a scream session in the walk-in and soon.

Polly just laughed and went to go restock the bar, seemingly leaving Dmitry alone with Anya. He wasn’t sure how he could recover this in a way that would still be charming, but maybe the hopeless idiot thing was endearing for Anya?

It just occurred to him that he had yet to introduce himself to her as she was awkwardly fiddling with her mug of cocoa. She could’ve gone to a table by now and no one would’ve blamed her, but she stayed for some reason.

“Um. Hi.” His hand nervously rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m Dmitry. Sorry about Polly, but thank you for earlier. With Gleb.”

She flushed again and tried to play it off. “Oh it was nothing. Someone needed to call him out. I’m Anya, by the way. Sorry, you probably heard Polly call me that.”

“Anya. That’s a pretty name.” Internally, he crowed with victory at the smile that spread across her face. “I guess I’ll need to think of something better to ask than ‘Come here often?’.”

She giggled at his lame joke and honestly Dmitry was ready to propose right then and there.

“I’ll give you one better, Dmitry.” His name shouldn’t have sounded that good, but he decided to chalk everything regarding Anya up to ‘true love.’

“Let’s hear it, Miss Anya.” He leaned forward over the counter, not completely crowding her space, but he was definitely closer than he would be with any other customer.

“When’s your break?” She looked at him over the rim of her cup as she took a drink. She set the cup back down and waited for his answer, but his brain had short-circuited both at her question and the chocolate sauce that caught on her lips. He had to shake himself before he speaking.

“Right-fucking-now. Meet me in the back in sixty seconds?” At Anya’s discreet nod, Dmitry pulled his apron over his head and called for Polly.

She came to the front, question written on her face and Dmitry brusquely informed her that he’d be back in fifteen.

Twenty minutes later, a wolf whistle separated Dmitry and Anya from where they were tangled up against the boxes of extra cups. His body covered hers completely, but he still buried his head in the crook of her neck and groaned in frustration.

“Please tell me that’s Polly and not Marfa.” He stage-whispered against her skin and took special delight in the shiver that ran through Anya.

She poked her head around his shoulder and cursed.

“It’s Marfa…”

“You know, Dmitry. When Vlad told us we should get to know our customers, I don’t think he meant mauling them in our back room.”

He took several deep breaths and then kissed Anya’s forehead gently. He hoped his smile conveyed his apology for getting them caught in such a position. Anya just giggled and tightened her hands that were fisted in his shirt before releasing him. With a sigh, he turned to meet his fate.

“Marfa. You were supposed to be unavailable this morning.”

“Change of plans. I was able to come in earlier than I thought. You’re free to go for the day, but if you think I’m not going to tell absolutely everyone about this, you’re more stupid than I originally thought.”

Anya giggled again behind him and allowed him to tug her from their little corner.

“Have a good day, Marfa.” And with a lazy salute, Dmitry escorted Anya out the back door. Once they were alone again and the coast was clear, Dmitry gathered her in his arms.

“So…what time is your exam?”

Anya checked her watch. “You’ve got three hours, Dmitry. What do you have in mind?”

“Excellent. My apartment is just around the corner. Let’s go.”

They walked briskly from the alley and tried to appear normal. Anya situated herself under his arm and Dmitry had to admit that the morning shift wasn’t completely awful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 💛💛💛


	3. Get a Different Name Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Combination of prompts, bc life.
> 
> Holiday - Get a Different Name Day
> 
> Dayas - Person A has a surprise planned & Person B is dying to know what it is. 
> 
> 2AMScribbles - Ring

“Dmitry Sudayev you are keeping secrets from me.”

His tiny fireball of a girlfriend stood in their living room with her hands on her hips, looking every bit the petulant princess she had been when he’d first met her all those years ago.

Dmitry placed his phone on the coffee table in front of him, having already gotten the confirmation he’d needed. As Anya walked – stomped – towards him, he grabbed her hands and pulled her into his lap. His own hands settled on her lower back, rubbing circles against the bare skin where her shirt rode up.

He tried not to take too much delight in the shiver that ran through her.

“What was that?”

She huffed in his arms and looked ready to pout at him.

“You’re keeping secrets. Something is going on that you’re not telling me and you know how much I _hate_ not knowing.”

Of course he did. He liked to think he knew Anya better than he knew himself.

“What would make you think that I’d even attempt to keep secrets from you?” He really needed to work harder at keeping the stupid grin off of his face, but it was quite difficult. “You’re entirely too clever and you know all of my tells.”

He might’ve been a con-man at heart – something Anya would vehemently argue with him about – but there wasn’t a person alive that knew him better than her. He’d learned a long time ago that hiding things from her would only spell disaster for him.

Still, though, certain circumstances called for him to toe the line of secrets…

“I don’t know, but if my sisters are to be believed, you’re planning something for Valentine’s Day.”

“Oh come on. You know I’m more creative than to try something on Valentine’s Day, especially when I have 364 other days throughout the year to celebrate you.”

His tone turned slightly suggestive; eyebrow raised in question. He hoped she’d take the bait and they could move away from the current subject. He could only deflect for so long.

For good measure, his grip tightened on her hips as he trailed feather-light kisses up her neck.

“Dimaaaa…”

“Anyaaaaaa. You can either continue to hound me over nothing, or we could make good use of the time we have before we’re expected at your parents’…”

She pulled back with a scowl and narrowed eyes, but as he pulled her tighter in his lap, she groaned in frustration.

“Fine. But if you leave any visible hickeys, you get to explain to my father how they got there.”

Now it was Dmitry’s turn to groan – he’d never lived that coat closet incident down. The last person he’d like to discuss his and Anya’s sex life with was her terrifying father.

Well. Maybe Tatiana, too. She was equally frightening.

Needless to say, it was with great focus and determination on Dmitry’s part that they arrived two hours later to the Romanov mansion, the pair of them sporting only a healthy flush.

Normally, he’d put up a fight as Anya was pulled from him as soon as they crossed over the front door, but he welcomed the distraction. Post-coital Anya had only forgotten her suspicions of his rumored plans for a couple subway stops before she continued poking and prodding him with questions.

“Is it a puppy? Are you getting me a puppy for Valentine’s Day?” That one came with a particularly hard jab at his chest.

“Ow. No, you know that our apartment doesn’t allow dogs.”

“Hmmm. That’s a good point…but I’m still not ruling it out, knowing you.”

“Whatever you say, dear.” He just chuckled and kissed her forehead as her frustrations grew.

With Anya properly preoccupied, he went on the hunt for Marie. Anya’s grandmother was an intimidating woman. He’d heard enough tales about how she was the only person Anya’s grandfather would bow to.

But Marie adored Anya – although she would claim to not have favorites – and when Dmitry had mentioned to her his intentions, Marie had all but demanded he use something from the family vault.

“You’re stealing her from the Romanov name, the least you can do is give her a Romanov diamond for keepsake.”

And who was he to argue? The ring he’d picked out – with Marie’s close supervision – was relatively simple, considering what types of precious jewelry the Romanov’s had at their disposal. A gold band that held a single diamond, flanked by two sapphires, caught his attention and Marie had nodded, claiming he clearly knew her Anastasia well.

She’d assured him she’d have it resized to fit Anya, as well as cleaned, and then she would bring it to the traditional Romanov family Saturday dinner.

The velvet box now safely in his pocket, Dmitry began mildly panicking. What if she said no? What if she hated that he asked her in front of her family? He knew she preferred to keep things relatively private, but he also knew that she loved her family dearly. He’d be hard pressed to find a closer-knit family than Anya’s.

He could feel the sisters’ eyes on him throughout dinner – which did nothing to ease his panic. Marie, for her part, looked as if nothing was amiss. She chatted animatedly with Anya about her plans for the Spring break and tried to convince her to accept an invitation to join Marie in Paris instead of grading papers.

It wasn’t until after dinner had been cleared away that Marie shot him a wink over her glass of wine.

Sensing his cue, he turned to face Anya directly, pointedly ignoring the large eyes – and Tatiana’s glare – that he could see out of his peripheral.

“Hey. Will you come with me for a second?” He kept his voice low, but everyone at the table knew exactly what was going to happen.

Well. Everyone but Anya.

Her suspicions had returned and while she looked as if she might decline him, she nodded and followed him from the dining room. He led her out towards the back gardens – Alexandra was famous for her gardens and the privacy it gave to the family. He hoped the rose bushes would give them enough cover so that they wouldn’t have to see their audience until they were ready to.

Anya finally dug in her heels and pulled him up short. Arms crossed; she took a deep breath before beginning her tirade.

“Dmitry Antonov Sudayev. You tell me what’s going on right this moment or I’m going back to the house and telling Tatiana to torture the information out of you!”

He chuckled. Leave it to Anya to threaten bodily harm when he’s just trying to fucking propose.

“I’ll tell you what’s going on if you’ll give me a moment to actually speak?”

She mumbled a ‘fine’ before gesturing at him to continue.

“Nastya…” At his nickname for her, she softened. He wondered briefly if she could see his nerves through her annoyance with his secrets. “I love you.”

“I love you, too, Dima.” She willingly let him take her hands, his thumbs brushing over her knuckles. He felt as if he was towering over her as he looked into her eyes and watched as the gears slowly turned in her head.

She was starting to catch on…he’d better make this quick.

“You know I’m not one for all the sappy stuff, and I think soulmates aren’t realistic, but you make me want to believe in all that. You’ve taught me how to love in ways I hadn’t thought possible. You’re my person, and, if you’ll let me, I’d like to be your person, too. Forever…?”

He dropped one of her hands to grab the velvet box out of his pocket and held it between them.

Anya seemed caught between staring at the box and meeting his eyes. For a while, she said nothing, and he almost feared he’d been right about the potential rejection. He couldn’t help but think that this was the longest Anya had ever been quiet…

Finally then, her voice croaked.

“You absolute idiot.”

“That’s not the answer I was hoping for, I’m not going to lie, Nastya.”

She slapped his shoulder and threw her arms around his neck, kissing him soundly. It was only due to his quick reflexes that he was able to catch her as she jumped into his arms without dropping the ring box on the ground.

Anya’s fingers flexed in his hair and they pulled back for just a beat.

“Yes. I’ll marry you, you stupid, wonderful man. You are my person, forever.”

And oh, he couldn’t help but kiss her then. It was mostly teeth, however, as neither could stop smiling. Anya gave a teary giggle as Dmitry slid the ring onto her finger – a perfect fit, thanks to Marie – and then he was spinning her up off the ground again.

They were interrupted by cheering and wolf-whistling coming from the back door. Sadly, their moment alone would have to be put on hold until they could pry themselves away from Anya’s family.

As they made their way back up the steps to her – _their_ – family, Anya punched him in the arm.

“Ow! What was that for?”

“You told me you weren’t planning anything for Valentine’s Day!”

His smile, which was starting to hurt his face, turned smug.

“I didn’t plan anything for Valentine’s Day. Well, aside from hopefully spending the day, _alone_ , with my new fiancé.”

“Valentine’s Day is tomorrow!”

“Exactly. Today is Get a Different Name Day. So what say you, Romanov? Fancy being a Sudayev?”

That earned him another punch, followed by a kiss sweeter than the varenye served at dinner.

He was going to marry this woman, and this was easily the best day of his life. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 💛💛💛


	4. Valentine's Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Valentine's Day combined with the following prompt, sent by Elissa:
> 
> Accidentally ending a phone call with your roommate with a casual 'I love you' seems like a good reason to move out.
> 
> Idiots in love is my favorite trope.

“Dima, I don’t understand why _I_ had to be the one to make the alcohol run for tonight. Everyone is looking at me like I’m incredibly sad…”

Anya tried to keep her angry whisper low to avoid any more unwanted attention, but the Romanovs weren’t exactly known for their ability to be quiet. Even her grocery basket clinked noisily with the various bottles she’d grabbed.

Dmitry’s smug chuckle over the phone was almost enough to have her chucking the device across the store.

“You volunteered, Nastya. Besides, we both know that I’m allergic to love. Do you want me to die from all the Valentine’s merch?”

She rolled her eyes affectionately even though she knew he couldn’t see her.

“I’ll remember that, Dima, when you come home tomorrow with arms full of discounted chocolate.”

Dmitry’s offended gasp on the other end of the line made her smile. He really was a complete idiot, but she loved living with him. They had so much fun and managed to coexist quite well, despite the pair being equally stubborn and hot-headed. Sure, they had their disagreements, but usually the person in the wrong – Dmitry – would make breakfast as a peace offering and they’d go back to normal.

Her friendship with Dmitry was easily the most important thing to her. From the moment they’d been introduced to each other, they just seemed to click. She’d always struggled with feeling like an outsider, even within her own family. But with Dmitry, things just made sense.

Which is why, she absolutely, one-hundred percent, could _not_ jeopardize their situation by allowing her stupid feelings to get in the way.

At first, she’d chalked up said feelings to Dmitry being an attractive male and spending so much time with him. It was only natural to have a harmless crush, and eventually it would go away.

That never happened, though, much to her chagrin. Instead, the feelings grew stronger. Every passing brush or lingering look or small gesture was cataloged away in her mind to overanalyze later with her sisters and Marfa. Dmitry himself claimed to hate love and anything associated with it, but there _had_ to be something there…right?

People didn’t look at each other the way Dmitry and Anya did and didn’t feel _something_.

Until Anya could figure out a viable strategy for approaching the feelings thing, she would need to keep it under lock and key. Although, getting stupid drunk with the source of her feelings on Valentine’s Day was likely not a good way to go about this.

The universe, of course, chose to ignore Anya and all of her wishes.

“Alright. I’m getting to the checkout lane now. Text me where to pick up dinner from? I love you, Dima.”

There was silence on the other end of the line and for a moment, Anya felt as if she’d left her body and was forced to watch the whole painful thing on repeat, unable to stop it.

Anya hung up on Dmitry before he could say anything, dropping her phone in her pocket as if that would help her undo her words. She wasn’t sure how she made it out of the store or if she even paid for her groceries. One minute she was on the phone with Dmitry and the next she was hesitating outside their front door.

While she contemplated her next move – the top option currently being staying with Maria and just accepting that she’d need to replace all of her belongings – equal turmoil was being experienced on the other side of the door.

Dmitry had sat, frozen in terror and something else, for a solid fifteen minutes after Anya had hung up on him.

Then he rang Marfa because who else would know what to do in this situation? She’d been the one to introduce them and encouraged them to be roommates. She’d help him sort this out and then he could either flee the country under a new alias or at least avoid a painful, slow death by protective, angry Romanov sisters.

Marfa, coincidentally, was also the only person who knew just how crazy Dmitry was about Anya.

Sure, he’d played the emotionally stunted loner well, but Anya had stormed into his life and uprooted everything. How she’d managed to get past his defenses when literally no one else ever had, he’d yet to figure out.

Dmitry had assumed that eventually, Anya would move on and move out of his life, finding someone worthy of her love and he’d go back to being the cynical one-man show. He had his friendships, but he’d made peace with the fact that he just wasn’t meant for love.

Part of him still hoped, though, that maybe Anya might stick around. When he was feeling particularly optimistic, he’d allow himself to imagine what would change if he finally pulled his head out of his ass – Marfa’s words, not his – and Anya reciprocated his feelings.

He’d been questioning where she stood with him for several months now. She seemed to be always sporting a healthy flush whenever she was around him. He’d catch her staring when she thought he couldn’t see her. Dmitry had almost had a heart attack last week when Anya’s eyes had flitted down to his lips while he was talking, as if she was in a daze.

She wanted to kiss him. He just knew it.

But then his anxiety would kick in and remind him that Anya deserved better than anything he could ever offer her.

Currently, though, he wasn’t sure what anything was anymore. Marfa had told him point-blank, to stop fucking about and to tell Anya how he felt. She hadn’t even bothered listening to his ‘what-ifs,’ she just hung up on him with a snort.

_Anya should be back soon…_

Should he ask her about it? Was it a platonic, ‘I love you like a roommate’ thing? Had she just been reading a sign in the store? No…she’d said “I love you, Dima” clear as day.

He decided he’d let her take the reins. It might’ve been the coward’s way out, but if she wanted to brush it off like it was nothing – when it had clearly shaken him to his core – he’d just have to be okay with that. He didn’t want to make her feel bad, either, if it had been a mistake. Anya tended to take on too much for others emotionally and Dmitry would be damned if he added to that because he wanted to have The Talk with her.

Before he could stew any longer on it, the front door burst open with Marfa pulling a spluttering Anya in after her.

“Marfa! I have a bunch of glass bottles!”

Marfa said nothing as she took the bags from Anya and set them in the kitchen. She grabbed Anya’s hand again and then Anya was sitting next to him on the couch, both equally confused at the turn of events.

“You two.” Marfa pointed an angry finger between them. “Are going to sit here and tell each other how you feel and I swear on all the vodka in the world if I have to deal with another mopey ‘I have to flee the country, they don’t love me’ message from either of you, I will lock you in a room together, naked.”

And with that she turned on her heel and left the apartment.

Dmitry cleared his throat as Anya played nervously with her fingers. In an effort to ease some of her discomfort, he grabbed her hands in his before he could really think any better of it.

Anya studied his face for a moment and then launched herself into his arms and kissed the breath from him. He couldn’t help the happy groan that escaped him as she deepened the kiss and he pulled her further against him.

She drew back, smile tentative as she waited to see what he’d say.

“So. You meant what you said on the phone?”

Anya just rolled her eyes and kissed him again, which he was more than fine with. He laid her back against the couch, willingly letting her drag him down with her.

Finally, air became necessary and with his forehead resting against hers, Dmitry could say the words he’d been holding back for months.

“I love you, Nastya.”

She hummed against his lips, looking and feeling happier than she ever had before.

“I love you, too, Dima.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Valentine's Day 💛💛💛


	5. International Mother Language Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> for reference - this is still a modern au, but I suppose it could be canon. I'm pretty vague about it all. 
> 
> Dmitry learns French, but Anya still loves when he speaks their mother language for her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I bounce back and forth between meaning for the dialogue to be in Russian or French. If dialogue is in English, interpret it however you'd like, I just got very lazy.

They’d been living in Lyon for several months now, and they’d settled into their new lives quite nicely, Anya thought.

It was an adjustment at first, for sure, especially for Dmitry. Anya had visited her grandmother in Paris every summer as a child, and had been fluent in French since she was seven. Dmitry, however, had never left Petersburg.

She’d been surprised when _he_ first brought forth the idea that they leave Russia. While Petersburg held distinct pains for both of them, it had been their home. Her confusion showed plainly on her face, because he’d taken her hands and met her gaze in earnest.

“I think it would be good for us to start fresh, somewhere new. Petersburg is Petersburg, but it hasn’t really felt like ours for a while now.”

As soon as he had said it, she found herself agreeing. Petersburg had changed, and it would be best if they didn’t stick around much longer.

So they’d sold almost everything they owned, each packing a single suitcase to start their new lives in France. They’d stayed a few weeks with Anya’s grandmother, mostly so they could have time to explore and find the right city for them to settle in.

Dmitry, bless him, insisted on Anya speaking French around him constantly. He said he’d only get the hang of it if he absolutely had to. His determination to learn the language was fascinating to observe. He refused to let her speak Russian around him unless they were at her grandmother’s for their obligatory weekly brunch.

He’d picked it up within a month. It was astonishing, really. His accent needed some work, but nerves no longer laced his sentences. He’d managed to fall back into that ease and confidence that was uniquely Dmitry, all lazy smirks and eyes twinkling with mischief.

The poor, unsuspecting citizens of Lyon didn’t stand a chance. Anya fought eyerolls regularly as strangers looked as if they’d swoon on the spot. Such a handsome man speaking French that well and assuredly? Anya herself might’ve joined them, but her swoons would require more effort from her love.

But Dmitry being Dmitry, he knew exactly where her weaknesses were.

She’d taken for granted their mother language. The French thought Russian to be brutal and harsh. The few times Anya had spoken it in public with her grandmother, she’d received several pointed stares before switching to perfect French.

To an outsider, it seemed ridiculous to want to speak Russian when one could speak French, the language of love.

Within the walls of their small apartment, though, on quite mornings as Dmitry wrapped her up in his arms and whispered Russian sweet nothings into the shell of her ear, Anya couldn’t feel anything but love. 

“ _Dobroye utro Lyubov’ moya_.” His voice rumbled against her skin and Anya felt a shiver run through her.

Dmitry hadn’t spoken Russian in weeks, not even in the privacy of their home. She arched into him, eager to hear anything.

“ _Vy propustili eto?_ ” Now she realized why he spoke French so often. As her legs threatened to give out from under her, she knew she wouldn’t be able to contain herself if he spoke to her like this in public.

“ _Oui…_ ” Her eyes were now closed, letting the sound of his voice wash over her.

Dmitry made a disapproving sound in the back of his throat and bit down gently at the base of her neck.

“ _Nu zhe, Nastya. Chto mne nuzhno sdelat’, chtoby ubedit’ vas govorit’ so mnoy po-russki?”_

His hands trailed up and down her sides and Anya debating smacking him for teasing her. As much as she was enjoying this, she needed him to just _get to it_ already.

But her stubbornness would always be her downfall…

_“Faites-moi.”_

Dmitry’s smile turned downright devilish.

_“Vyzov prinyat.”_

Much later, as they’re tangled together beneath the blankets on their bed, Anya once again fought the urge to wipe that smug smirk off Dmitry’s stupidly handsome face.

“You look much too happy with yourself, Dima.”

“What can I say?I like when you speak Russian. Feels like home.” His grip on her tightened and couldn’t help but return his blinding smile.

“Hmmm…well perhaps now that you’ve got a good handle on the French, we can speak both.” She tapped his lips with a delicate finger. He caught her wrist and pressed soft kisses against each of her fingertips before pulling her more firmly against him.

As she burrowed further into his embrace, she felt rather than heard his answer, sweeter than honey.

_“Ya by ochen khotel etogo.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love languages and I wish I knew more than just English. I've studied Spanish in high school and would like to learn French, but we'll see if that ever happens. Hope you enjoyed this little drabble!!
> 
> Translations (intended, at least. I used Google...)
> 
> “Dobroye utro Lyubov’ moya." - Good morning, my love. 
> 
> "Vy propustili eto?" - Have you missed it?
> 
> "Oui..." - Yes
> 
> "Nu zhe, Nastya. Chto mne nuzhno sdelat, chtoby ubedit vas govorit so mnoy po-russki?” - Come on, Nastya. What do I need to do convince you to speak Russian to me?
> 
> "Faites-moi" - Make me. 
> 
> "Vyzov prinyat" - Challenge accepted. 
> 
> "Ya by ochen khotel etogo" - I would really like this.


	6. National Margarita Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Idiots + tequila = love

Anya licked her lips, trying to catch the salt that clung to them from her glass. Pride filled her as she watched Dmitry’s dark eyes flit down to watch the movement of her tongue.

They’d been sitting here, huddled in the corner of Marfa’s apartment for what might’ve been ages, nursing round after round of their host’s bartending skills. Every time Anya finished her drink, another seemed to appear out of thin air. Any other sane person would’ve cut them off, especially as Anya giggled against the rim of her glass, fingers stretching out to play with the loose hairs hanging over Dmitry’s eyes.

But Marfa was the Devil in disguise with a hidden agenda. She had good money riding on the pair finally pulling their heads out of their asses before the month was up and she refused to lose to Alexei. Kid was much too smug for his age.

Dmitry was just…so… _delectable_ with his rolled-up sleeves and unbuttoned collar. His smirk stretched across his stupid perfect face, that trademark dimple calling out to Anya.

Perhaps she could convince Marfa to let them do tequila shots. Then she could lick the salt off his jaw. It was as sharp as the edge of her glass and she wondered what his reaction would be if she grabbed him and hauled him in to find out if he tasted as good as he looked.

They continued with their silly flirting – hands strayed and lingered in places they most definitely shouldn’t – blissfully unaware of the party going on around them.

It just felt _so. good._

Dmitry was smiling and she was laughing at something ridiculous that he’d said and _God_ , would she like to go somewhere much less crowded and really explore him.

She finished her drink – she’s not sure what number she’s at and damnit, Marfa was putting a lot of tequila in them – and leaned across the space between them, buzzing with the tension that crackled in the air, to whisper in Dmitry’s ear.

“Dima…I need your help.”

She felt him holding his breath and were she not currently drunk off her ass, she’d tease the shit out of him for it. She loved getting under his skin.

Right now, she wanted to find out what it felt like against hers.

“With what, Nastya?”

_Oooh_ , she loved when he called her that. She had many nicknames – some not too kind – but that was her favorite. Only Dmitry called her it and she wanted to feel him press the name into her skin with his mouth over and over until she forgets everything else.

“It’s for science. Trust me.”

She didn’t give him much time to react – other than a confused, but eager nod.

Then she delicately traced his jaw, lifting his chin to get a better angle of him as she swiped her tongue up his pulse, taking special pleasure in the shudder that runs through him. Her lips lingered at the spot where his dimple was just minutes before and placed butterfly kisses against it. Her lips trailed along his jaw and a groan rumbled through him.

_“Nastya…”_

“You taste better than the margaritas, Dima. Just don’t tell Marfa I said that.” She hummed against the shell of his ear and then suddenly she was up out of her seat and Dmitry wrapped her legs around his waist – both sucking in a breath at the contact – as he strode from the apartment.

Someone yelled something at them, but she was much too preoccupied with how sensitive Dmitry’s neck seemed to be that she missed his response to them. His hands gripped her more firmly as he fumbled with the keys to his own apartment that was thankfully just down the hall from Marfa’s.

Two heads poked out of Marfa’s apartment just in time to witness Dmitry momentarily give up on his keys to push Anya up against his door, kissing the giggles from her mouth.

“Pay up, Romanov.”

The younger man shook his head in defeat, but produced the bills Marfa was after.

“I still think that was cheating, you know.”

“Of course it was. Maybe next time you’ll learn to specify the rules when you bet with me.” She cackled and counted her winnings, pulling him back into the party to give the idiots some privacy.

* * *

They woke up the next morning, pounding heads and aching bodies, with more questions than they cared to address in their current state.

But one thing was for certain.

“So. We’re gonna do that again, right? Like tonight? But minus the alcohol.”

“Oh absolutely. First we need to shower, though, and then you’re making me pancakes.” Anya ran her fingers along the tender skin of her collar and neck. “And I’m staying here until these hickies fade. My poor head can’t handle everyone’s loud comments right now.”

Dmitry’s eyes lingered on her bare skin, heat filling them once more, and memories of the night before came flooding back.

His hum of agreement was followed by him pulling her up and out of bed, leading her towards his shower.

“Deal. But you might be here for a while, if that’s the case.”

“Oh? _Ooooh_.” Her voice cut off as his teeth grazed along her neck, biting down gently on an already sensitive spot.

“Oh yes. If hickies keep you from leaving this apartment, I’d better get to work, ASAP.”

Her laugh rang through the apartment before cutting off abruptly as his lips loved the spot his teeth had just been.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 💛💛💛


End file.
